A FILTHY Engagement: a filthy line novel Read online

  Truthfully, I wanted to say that Gregor was a useless piece of shit who couldn’t manage to put a cookie on a plate without spilling the cookie or dropping the plate, but I kept that big ol’ smile on my face that everyone loved and joked that the name was spelled wrong by error and I just decided to run with it.

  The most common response to that?

  Well, you have a great heart, attitude, and a big smile for it!

  Growing up being teased that I was more mouth than face really left me feeling… whatever.

  “Hey, there she is,” Betty said as she worked behind the counter. “Were you doing managerial duties back there or just checking your DMs?”

  I walked to the register and looked out to the tables. There were only two empty.

  Which was good.

  Why? Why is it so good, Candice? Why does that matter to you?

  The logical part of my brain that demanded a sense of normalcy said it was good to be busy… because it meant a job. Gregor had all but thrown the keys to the place at me, knowing my previous business ownership would only help both of us grow the business for the cafe. (Which I had done…) Being busy also meant not sitting around wasting time doing dumb things like worrying about the past. I wasn’t like Betty. She was young and loved to get paid to do nothing. She loved the days when it rained hard enough to keep people away. She loved to lean over the counter looking forward, scrolling through her phone.

  And she hated when I made her do work even when there was no work.

  Because there was always work.

  Until the place closes up for good, right? Work right up until you have to leave the key on the counter and leave…

  I cleared my throat and wiped the counter next to the register.

  I checked the food case and then checked the food list in the back.

  Everything was in order.

  Perfectly organized.

  Betty was working until close. Misti was coming in so I could leave and attempt something that resembled a life.

  Just another day of cruising forward in what was supposed to be my bridge plan.

  At least that’s what Cali called it.

  My sister had no problem welcoming me to live at her house after life happened. Her price was said to be nothing but the love and care for her sister. That was a lie though. Her price was words. Lots and lots of words. The genes she had gotten from our parents made her smart, pretty, able to talk for days, but too afraid to take action. Settling into marriage with a doctor gave her comfort and allowed her to pursue her life’s work of telling others what to do.

  Me… my genes told me to act first, worry later. And that worry then came in the form of making everything look perfect because as long as shit was organized and looked good, nobody would know how fucking crazy I felt.

  I walked through the cafe and felt my eyes looking for problems. I needed to find something to fix. A cobweb that would make someone feel gross being in the cafe. Or a table that was just a little bit wobbly. Or a light bulb ever-so-slightly buzzing, whining for a change.

  At the front window, I told myself to stop and stare out the window for a second.

  How fucking perfect can this weather get?

  I asked myself that more times than I could ever really admit.

  Clear blue sky.

  Gentle breeze playing with the palm trees.

  Knowing that if I opened the door, I’d get smacked with a comforting warmth and the smell of the city. Sometimes I told myself I could smell the beach too, but I doubt that ever really happened.

  I took a deep breath and smiled.

  Some days were okay. Some days were better than okay.

  Some days were…

  “Fucker!”

  I turned and heard a loud slam on the floor.

  Betty appeared at the register, holding her hand.

  “I burned my fucking hand,” she cried out.

  I hurried through the cafe, smiling and nodding to everyone who wasn’t wearing earbuds and heard what Betty said.

  She had such a nice name and was far from what the name suggested.

  Don’t worry, Betty, Candice was coming to the rescue… as always.

  * * *

  I ran her hand under cold water as she danced on her toes.

  “What did you burn it on?” I asked.

  “A fucking flaming log,” Betty said.

  I looked at her. “Was it steam? Did you touch something?”

  “I don’t remember,” she said.

  “It happened thirty seconds ago.”

  “I was dropped as a baby,” Betty said. “My parents were the worst.”

  I shook my head.

  I pulled her hand from the water and gently patted it with a soft towel.

  Betty hissed and groaned and cursed.

  “You shouldn’t have said what you did in front of customers,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you going to fire me now? Since you’re the big, bad manager…”

  “I’m not the manager,” I said.

  “You do everything a manager does. Except get paid for it.”

  I squeezed Betty’s hand.

  “Aaahhh!” she screamed. “What the fuck?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a voice chimed in.

  Betty and I both put our heads back.

  Fucking Gregor.

  He came from the back of the cafe, eyes down on his phone screen. When he stopped walking, the cloud of his cologne kept going. It was like a scary movie where a fog or mist overtakes a town.

  Betty cringed at the first whiff of whatever the hell Gregor thought smelled good.

  Then again, this was Gregor. He probably wasn’t worried about smelling good over smelling powerful. Rich. Successful. The kind of guy that grew up without a bad day and when he became an adult and turned into a douchebag, his parents bought him a building. Complete with five businesses and five apartments on the second floor. And all he had to do was not let it burn to the ground.

  His life was pretend.

  And what’s yours, Candice?

  “What’s with the language, ladies?” Gregor asked without looking up from his phone.

  I looked at Betty and she frowned.

  Then she mouthed porn to me.

  That made me cringe.

  I doubted that was what Gregor was watching. But you never knew with him.

  There was a slim chance that he was actually doing something productive.

  He finally put his phone away and stared at Betty and I.

  Gregor was tall and lanky. Like his arms could reach down to his ankles. He had black hair that was slicked back and obviously dyed. I wasn’t sure if he had a real hair color or was just facing getting gray hair early in life, but he got his hair dyed at least once a week.

  He wore a suit jacket with a v neck t-shirt. Kind of like he wanted to be some cool, edgy, techy guy. He would change the way he talked, walked, the food he ate, and the stuff he drank. There was a time when he considered banning coffee. From a cafe.

  Some days I wondered if I should have let him do it.

  See what would happen to business.

  But that was Gregor.

  The day I showed up to ask for a job, he was working and he hated it. He took his own apron off and threw it at me. There was no interview and I’d been working there ever since.

  But anyway…

  Gregor pointed to Betty’s hand. Then he pointed to the front of the cafe.

  He loved to try and talk with hand signals.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “Who’s watching the front?” he asked.

  “There’s cameras in the office,” I said.

  “Who’s in the office?”

  “Nobody,” I said.

  “So nobody is out front, or in the office… why don’t I just throw a few fucking thousand dollars into the air and let people take it?” Gregor asked.

  “Throw it my way,” Betty said.

  “Get out front!” Gregor yelled.


  He had a really good yelling voice but nothing to back it up with. The phrase all bark, no bite should have been tattooed on his forehead.

  Betty pulled away from me.

  “Wait a second,” I said. “She’s burned. She might need medical attention.”

  “You looked at her,” Gregor said to me.

  “I’m not a doctor,” I said.

  “Candice…”

  “No doctors,” Betty said. “I’m fine. Just stings a little.”

  “You need ice on it,” I said.

  “See?” Gregor asked. “You know what you’re doing, Candice. Perfect.”

  “Can she get a bandage at least?” I asked. “To wrap it up?”

  “Do we have bandages?” Gregor asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “There’s a first aid kit in the office.”

  Gregor clapped his hands together. “Perfect! Problem solved. Amazing. Well done. Betty, head to the office and get a bandage. Candice, let’s get out front and make sure the register isn’t cleaned out.”

  Fucking. Dick.

  Betty and I went our separate ways.

  Out front it was… calm.

  As expected.

  The same guitar laced indie music playing from the speakers overhead.

  The same people sitting on their laptops.

  Nobody opened the register and stole the money.

  Nobody even so much as took a napkin.

  Maybe.

  “What’s the month looking like?” Gregor asked.

  He did this thing where he would snap his fingers and clap his hands when he talked about money.

  It drove me nuts.

  “It’s a normal month, Gregor.”

  “Orders all okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Inventory spot on?”

  “You know I’m just a barista here…”

  “Of course,” he said. “But you’re the best of the best.”

  “Flattery doesn’t work without money,” I said.

  “Since when are you greedy? Don’t you love the entire process of this? I thought this was what you wanted?”

  I opened my mouth and Gregor’s phone beeped.

  He held his finger up and took a phone call.

  I turned my attention to the front of the cafe because the bell above the door jingled.

  What walked into Moon Bliss cafe was trouble.

  The words sex, hot, fuck, damn, gorgeous all went through my mind too.

  But as I stared at him and felt my lips shiver, that one word stuck out the most.

  Trouble.

  * * *

  I swallowed hard and took a deep breath through my nose.

  Every now and again someone famous would stroll through the door. I never played into the celebrity thing though. They were just people. Looking for some coffee or something to eat. And if anything, it was cool they chose this cafe because it was low key and I wanted to keep it that way.

  But this…

  “Candy, huh?” he asked with his smoldering dark blue eyes and scruffy jaw.

  His hair was a greasy mess and he smelled like old whiskey and fresh soap.

  He was tall and lean, the veins in his arms running down to his hands. His hands were big and strong. When he made fists and put them to the counter, the few rings on his fingers clinked against the counter.

  In a black t-shirt that was probably a size too big on purpose, showing off an undershirt, everything about him oozed trouble. And sex.

  Just admit it, Candice… he is… sex…

  I made myself smile.

  “Candy?” I asked.

  Without hesitation, he lifted his right hand and with his pointer finger, he touched my chest. I stiffened and almost jumped back. But I didn’t. I stood there and slowly looked down and watched as he traced the name Candy with his finger.

  Just above my left breast.

  Any other asshole in the world would have been bleeding by then.

  But I was frozen with this guy.

  At the y in Candy he pulled his finger away and touched his own lips.

  And he kissed his own finger.

  Such a pompous, dick move…

  It got to me.

  “Can… I mean… it’s not Candy.”

  “I may not have been a star student, but I know how to read,” he said. “Especially when a pretty girl like you writes something on their tit.”

  Heat and color hit my cheeks.

  Not so subtle, huh?

  I forced another smile. “I’m saying that’s not my name. It was a mistake. My name is Candice.”

  “Candice,” he said. “I like that better.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “What can I get you?”

  “Well, sweetie, that’s a loaded question…”

  “Sweetie? Really?”

  He grinned at me. “Candice. Candy. Sweet. Sweetie. Problem with that?”

  The initial shock of hotness was finally washing off of me.

  My nostrils flared.

  I looked down at his right hand, back on the counter.

  I made a fist and slammed it down to his hand.

  “There,” I said.

  “Damn,” he said as he took his hands off the counter. “I need that hand, sweetie.”

  “For what? Huh? To touch some other woman’s chest? And don’t call me sweetie. Asshole.”

  My eyes moved left to right.

  Everyone was staring.

  Not at us.

  But at him.

  He flexed his hand and put his hands back to the counter. “I need my hands to play guitar, Candice. Why don’t you change this hippy, indie bullshit stuff you call music to a radio station. I’m sure you’ll hear me.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I asked, trying to be coy.

  “Fucking hell,” Gregor said. “Listen, Tim, I gotta call you back.”

  I turned my head and Gregor came running toward the register.

  He literally knocked me out of the way and put his hand out.

  “Dex,” he said. “Fucking Dex. In my place here. Holy fuck, man. This is epic. This is the shit. This is fucking wild. Can I get a selfie? Fuck. No. How about a pic with you in here? Can I put it on the wall?”

  I rubbed my shoulder and watched as Gregor oozed all over Dex.

  “I couldn’t find…” Betty was suddenly next to me and she didn’t finish her sentence. “Whoa. Is that Dex?”

  “Yeah, it’s Dex,” I said. “What’s the big fucking deal?”

  Betty smiled… a rarity.

  And she walked to stand with Gregor at the counter.

  It was the closest Gregor and Betty had ever been.

  As they rambled on to Dex, he moved his eyes and looked at me.

  And he winked.

  I walked to the back of the cafe and rolled my eyes.

  Some rock star walks into the cafe and I’m supposed to… what… fall in love?

  3

  Dex

  I signed a napkin, stood for a couple pictures, and waited for Toby to show up. He was doing this on purpose. Sending me into this bullshit situation where I was going to be tackled for attention.

  Except…

  Sweetie behind the counter.

  Her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun like she just didn’t give a damn about herself. A powder blue long sleeve shirt, the sleeves pushed up, the black apron over that with the wrong name above her left breast.

  Whether she was damaged or just down on herself, that worked for me two hundred times over.

  But… there was one little problem.

  Her eyes.

  I made a career of staring in people’s eyes.

  Standing on stage in front of tens of thousands of fans… show after fucking show… seeing the Filthy Line shirts, hoodies, cut up shirts made into slutty tank tops… or those who took their shirts off because, face it, it was nicer to look at some tits than the name of my band.

  Right?

  I wasn’t in the mood for coffee but I took the free o
ne Betty gave to me.

  I nodded, thanked her, and then sat down at an open table.

  Everyone around me tried to do the casual stare thing. Pretending they were working or whatever but in reality they were looking at me. That always amazed me. What did they think was going to happen? That I was going to choke on my drink? My food? Did they think I was going to cry or pass out or… what?

  There was a second that I pictured myself standing up and pissing on the table.

  But that meant Sweetie would have to clean it up.

  That would get her over to the table though…

  I hadn’t seen her since she slid her way into the back of the cafe.

  Trying to hide from me.

  I looked around and finally made my move.

  I sighed and shook my head.

  Being a rock star is such a tough life…

  I stood up on the table and whistled.

  Everyone looked at me.

  Except one woman.

  She was lost in typing something.

  Earbuds in her ears.

  I jumped off the table and walked up behind her.

  I pulled the earbuds out of her ears.

  “I need your attention, sweetie,” I whispered. “Okay?”

  She turned and looked at me and gasped.

  I walked back to the table and jumped up on it again.

  “Now that I have your attention,” I called out, “let me introduce myself. I’m Dex. I play guitar for Filthy Line. You know that. If you read what’s written about me… it’s true. I just got arrested two times in one night. Thank you very much. If you want to get into stats, I can tell you my height, weight, the size of my… shoes…” Everyone laughed. “And the size of my dick.”

  They all stopped laughing.

  “Too far?” I asked. “Damn. Sorry. I’m going to stand up on this table until Candy comes out here. Hope you don’t mind. I can make this very uncomfortable though. There is nothing I won’t say or do. Anyone want to join me on this table? We can break it together. How about you, sweetie?”

  I pointed to the woman that I took the earbuds out of her ears.

  Her jaw dropped.

  She shut her laptop and hurried to pack everything up.

  “Don’t leave me,” I said. “I can’t live without you…” I looked to the next woman. “What about you? You can just stand there and I’ll open my jeans…”